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Go Ask Mom

Go Ask Mom

Amanda Lamb: Journey

Posted September 16, 2012

I am home again in North Carolina surrounded by the trappings of my mother’s life.

There are boxes piled floor to ceiling in my basement, many hastily packed in the middle of the night. Each one provides clues to who my mother was. In one box, there is a paperweight shaped like a diamond designed to catch the light, a glittery heart-shaped box, a Bible with pages dog-eared, a colorful beaded scarf and a straw hat. In another box, I find a lace tablecloth, a charcoal painting of her from 1964, a single pearl earring and personal journals written more than a decade ago.

I mull these items over as if I am seeing them for the very first time, because, in a way, I am. The adrenaline of the move, the sheer speed and determination of the process, allowed me little time to savor what these items meant. In the same way I examine her belongings, I examined her life on my last trip to her house this past weekend. I ate at the bagel place where she had breakfast, popped into the stores where she shopped and introduced myself to the clerks.

These encounters usually ended in tears for all of us. I opened the windows in her empty house and let the fresh air breeze through the shutters filling the rooms with the sweet end-of-summer smell tinged by a promise of fall. I sat on her porch and gazed at the woods behind her home, wondering how many times had she done this. Also, wondering how many times she wanted to do this, but was too stressed by a busy life to take such a moment.

All of this is part of the grief journey, an attempt to really know the person who is gone. No matter how much we think we know someone, we all essentially journey through life alone, as individuals. Death gives those left behind a singular peek into our loved ones’ world that is virtually impossible to get when they are alive.

Grief is more palpable when the work is done, after the funeral, after the house is sold and the boxes are packed because grief needs space to exist. Like the name of this blog, “Go Ask Mom,” when your mother dies the thing you miss the most is not having someone to ask.

I still think of picking up the phone and calling her a dozen times a day to tell her a funny anecdote that I know will make her laugh or, more importantly, ask her an important question. But, hopefully, as I open each box and examine a life well-lived I will learn to answer those questions myself, and, in turn, answer them for for my daughters.

Amanda is the mom of two, a reporter for WRAL-TV and the author of several books including three on motherhood. Find her here on Mondays.

5 Comments

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  • cwood0817 Sep 18, 2012

    Amanda!!! God bless you friend. Death of a close loved one is tough-plain and simply tough. Close friends who listen, getting back to work, being with and answering questions with your children, and yes-prayer-all help deal with grief and the grieving process.

    I have been into the very old books in Mom's attic this week. We need to do something with them so we can empty the attic.There are silverfish everywhere in those old books. I can only do this for an hour or 2 and I get down-really down.

    Keep plugging Amanda. It get's better every day!! Hint-go home and love your kids and get a big hug from your husband-it all helps!!

  • LordHelpUsAll Sep 17, 2012

    You never stop missing her, you just learn to cope, afterall, what choice do you have. My mom was my best friend. She's been gone 10 years this month. She was the best mom ever. I hope I can give as much to my own kids.

  • lec02572 Sep 17, 2012

    Amanda, you write so well. Everything that you have written brings back my owne memories of when my own mother passed away. For some of us even after years, every once in a while we pick up the phone to call for directions on how to cook something only to realize before we push the first number that those days are long since gone. Thank you so very much for your posts. I miss my mom so much and reading your posts just shows that others have the same emptyness that I have.

  • storchheim Sep 17, 2012

    Three weeks ago I dialed the phone number of someone I used to "go ask", not realizing yet that it was the last time I would ever call it. A few days later I got the call from her nephew.

    I still catch myself thinking, "Oooh, can't wait to tell her about (fill in the blank)," still have to dry my eyes a second later.

  • uncfan89 Sep 17, 2012

    you are right the hardest part is not having someone to ask, I couldn't tell you how many times I have thought I need to ask mama this or that and then realize that I can't. you never get over it you just learn to get through it.